Light and Shadow
by not-that-deep
Summary: The eldest was far too trusting and the younger was far too curious. Differences divided them and misunderstanding kept them apart. In the end, they were just light, just shadow - and the differences were all that mattered.


They were raised together. Not as light and shadow, but as equals - as brothers.

In the beginning, love and laughter and the sheer joy and wonder of life - coupled with the desire to please the Allfather - filled their days. Adventure and trouble found them as sure as day, but they were a team and nothing could stop them when they were together. It was always seeing them side by side that made their father most proud. Neither knew that, unfortunately.

With each boy came a different set of strengths - and weaknesses.

The elder was strong and bold and too trusting by far. Their father, knowingly or not, took advantage of that. Before long, the little boy was molded into a warrior. He hadn't known any better. Killing wasn't something the child enjoyed, but, he trusted his father. Believed with all his heart when the man taught him that a warrior's life was the best way of life - that fighting held glory. That honor was only achievable through honesty and facing your problems head on like a true fighter.

And maybe it did. Maybe it was.

"There is glory in truth and wisdom, but rarely are these values found without sweat and bloodshed." Their father had told them that once, his voice solemn and his eyes dark.

Instilling the principles of a warrior had not been their father's intention. But, for a young boy who wanted nothing more than to please said father and surrounded by an environment that idolized fighting… Well, it's no wonder the eldest interpreted it differently; that he took the words into himself and buried them close to his heart and thoughts.

The elder was definitely far too trusting. It made him gullible and, when faced with opposition, it made obstinate and proud. It also made him appear golden. Like light, almost. The treasured child. The firstborn. The one that pattered in his people's' footsteps because he trusted them when they said that no other ground was stable.

In contrast, the younger was… It wasn't skepticism, not really… Curiosity, perhaps? Fear of failure that had turned to caution? Whatever it was, it made the younger brother want answers. He wanted to know _why_ things were the way they were. _Why_ a warrior's life was so grand? _Why_ was there glory in fighting? _Why_ was it so honorable to dismiss opportunity when it could achieve the goal?

The urge to find out was nearly unconquerable. There wasn't time to fight "honorably" when there were so much to discover! If a fight could be finished through hidden means, why not do so?

No one understood. Some tried, but they never were quite able to get past that last barrier. Instead, many believed the younger boy's thirsting mind to be mistrustful and purposefully grating. Always asking questions and telling false tales or tricking people. Never doing as he was told without a suitable answer; and even with an answer, whether he would actually do as asked was a toss up. The boy had to be angering them all on purpose.

Their cause for distress was plain, if misguided. He was a child after all. Seemingly curious, but not yet aware of such malicious behavior.

Mischief seemed to be his middle name, yes, but the intentions were never harmful - merely experimental. How far could he push? How angry could they get? What was the punishment for this? How far was too far? As disturbing as it is, when he was in that mindset, people weren't really people. Just factors to be weighed and altered.

Admittedly, situations sometimes got a little out of hand. A little too… Rough… But, that was understandable. Everyone had their moments. Even if the boy seemed to have one too many.

Despite the younger child's impish - nearly wicked - reputation, the elder son always had his brother's back. Throughout it all, he was there for him. Ready to offer comfort when the analytical mindset had faded and his brother was left with the reality of his actions.

It was worrying, how impulsive the younger could be when he only focused on the desired outcome. But, the elder trusted him when he said that it wouldn't happen again. "I'll pay attention next time," was the promise.

It was always a lie, but the golden son believed him. Every. Single. Time.

Above all else, this intrigued the little brother most. _Why_ was he there for him? _Why_ was he _always_ supporting him? Even when he lied, when the eldest _knew_ that he was lying, he was there - defending him. No matter how far he pushed, his big brother eventually scooted him over and helped. Or, at the very least, distracted whatever - or whoever - happened to be pushing back.

It was all rather irritating. No way could someone be _that_ trusting! Either the firstborn was born complete fool or he'd been dropped on his head one too many times as n infant. Who knows? Maybe it was some sort of hero complex - saving the baby of the family from his own mistakes?

… Or maybe he was just, genuinely, looking out for him?

The younger like to scoff at that. It just didn't make sense. Why would he want to look out for _him_ , the lesser son - the _adopted_ son? Oh, and hadn't that been a tough pill to swallow. Though _darling brother_ didn't seem to care. He was still his typical, sentimental self.

There was only one thing the younger prince did know for sure: he was seriously beginning to loathe that helping hand. It made him feel help _less_. Like he was being treated as a damsel in distress or some tripe like that.

Yggdrasil would collapse before he allowed the "Almighty Thor" to be his _hero_.

 _Gods_ , did he hate that word. He'd learned long ago that a word like that - ones that nobody could give an exact definition on - don't have real meaning because they don't _mean_ anything. They're lies. Illusions. _Tricks._

And he may deal in tricks, but he would never permit himself to _be_ tricked. Just look at what it did to people. If the blue skin, shaved heads, and random cheese wheels with face imprints were anything to go by - it was embarrassing and rarely fun. Nope, he'd settle for creating the mischief.

Unfortunately, no matter how much wool he pulled over his brother's eyes, the elder sibling was always trying to beseech and smile and be on his side - or, at least, lure _him_ into switching sides. The longer it went on, the longer the younger saw their father praising a doe-eyed, inflated fool while shaking his head in his own direction… Every second of it was another foot of distance between the siblings.

It was unintentional, but, neither party saw what was happening until it was too late. All except, maybe, the eldest. Had he tried using his mind instead of his heart, had he taken the time to measure his doubts, to see things for what they were… Maybe, just maybe, he would have noticed how long his shadow was and how deep his brother had sunk.


End file.
